


Lady

by Eve_7564



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eve_7564/pseuds/Eve_7564
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the Final Battle, Severus and Hermione are co-workers. Hermione thinks Severus hates her, and Severus is convinced Hermione would never want him. What happens when she finally gets up the nerve to ask him to dance at a Ministry function? Inspired by the song "Lady" by Little River Band. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Watching and Wishing

Severus Snape sat at the bar nursing his fifth Chivas. Beads of water clung to the side of the tumbler as the ice slowly melted. Normally, he would have been drinking Ogden’s or even wine, but not tonight. His mood was dark, morose, and dangerous; such a mood called for the drink of his good-for-nothing Muggle father.

Luckily, Severus was not prone to the drunken violent outbursts exhibited by his unlamented sire. Even if he had been, years as a double agent had taught him to keep his emotions in check. On this night, however, he was finding it a bit harder to control those emotions. Violence was not to be found, but he could feel himself drowning in bitterness and self-pity. With a disgusted grunt, he downed the rest of the tumbler, the pale amber liquid burning down his throat. Severus prayed that the numbness would come, but his prayers went again unanswered. He lowered the tumbler to the bar with a nod to the bartender. Maybe number six would do the trick.

As he waited for his refill, his eyes lingered on the patterns shifting in the tigers-eye inlays of the ebony counter where he sat. Flecks of light reflected off the polished surface as they flickered in the air around him, resembling fireflies on a summer evening. The lighting was dim, and music pulsed through the room. Chancey’s was the most upscale establishment in wizarding London, and the Ministry had spared no expense in hosting this event.

Voldemort had been defeated just over five years ago. This anniversary had been the cause of a week-long series of celebrations that had required intense Ministry planning. No department had been unaffected, and overtime had been mandatory in the months leading up to the festivities. Now, in late June, the Ministry had decided that its employees deserved a celebration of their own as a reward.

Severus had been planning to avoid the party at all costs. He was no longer required to present the most unflattering side of himself to hide his true allegiance, but old habits were hard to break. Not to mention, he was still uncomfortable in large crowds. It was more difficult to watch his back. Luckily, his current seat was at the end of the bar with his back against the wall. It was as good as he could have hoped for, considering Minister Shacklebolt had all but ordered him to attend tonight. Severus sighed and picked up his newly-filled tumbler and gazed out over the dance floor, brooding again.

All the usual suspects were present, of course. Harry and Ginny Potter swayed near the center of the dance floor, oblivious to their surroundings. Severus snorted. One would think after two years of marriage they would be past the honeymoon phase. No one had thought to copy the Potters on that memo, however. Neville and Hannah Longbottom danced nearby. They, too, were lost in each other’s eyes, but they truly were in the honeymoon stage, having just gotten married two weeks prior. Ron Weasley and Luna Lovegood were there as well, in their first public appearance as a couple.

Severus shook his head, remembering the rags’ reaction to the divorce of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger the previous year. Rumors of affairs on both sides flew. None of it was true, of course. Ron and Hermione had been one of those unfortunate young couples who had gotten married before they knew what they really wanted out of life or from each other. They had quickly grown apart as they each concentrated on their careers to the exclusion of all else. His training and special assignments as an Auror and her projects for the Department of Mysteries had left them nothing more than roommates. The divorce had been amicable and relatively painless; the only real pain had been caused by the rags and their reporting of non-existent affairs.

Anyone chancing to overhear Severus’ thoughts as he gazed into the crowd would no doubt be surprised. His attention to the lives of those around him was something no one expected. He had mastered the art of being aware of such situations as a survival skill. After all, you could exploit what you knew about the private lives of others.

_Look around you; look up here  
Take time to make time  
Make time to be there  
Look around; be a part  
Feel for the winter but don’t have a cold heart_

His eyes swept the dance floor again, pretending to himself he wasn’t looking for her. He wasn’t, really. He had been aware of her presence from the moment she walked in the door. He had seen her hug Ron, Luna, Ginny, and Hannah. He had been acutely aware of her dances with Harry and Neville. Why shouldn’t he be? She had been working with him on various Ministry-sponsored projects for nearly four years now. She was his link to acceptable society.

When Severus had been contacted by the Ministry to work in conjunction with the Department of Mysteries on potions development, he had nearly said no. He had a workshop at Spinner’s End, after all, and he planned to contract himself out to various catalogue companies to eke out a living. Shacklebolt had offered him a workshop in Hogsmeade and the provision that after five years he could have the option to return to teaching at Hogwarts. He was given a list of possible liaisons, and without even thinking, Severus had chosen Hermione. At the time, his feeling was “Better the devil you know.” Or that’s what he told himself.

There had been several functions—usually benefits for St. Mungo’s—that he had been required to attend. “Rehabilitation,” Kingsley had called it. Kingsley had only used the term in Severus’s presence once. After Severus had listed in loving, torturous detail what Kingsley could do with his “rehabilitation,” the issue was permanently relegated to correspondence only. Severus had hoped that Kingsley would drop it completely, but Kingsley was a Gryffindor, and therefore extremely pig-headed.

The idea behind Severus’s rehabilitation was the more Severus was seen in the company of “respectable” witches and wizards, the better his reputation would be among the general public. So Kingsley often asked Severus to make appearances at various functions to achieve this. “Asked” may be the wrong term. He never outright ordered Severus, but he also knew how to make Severus’s life miserable if he refused to attend.

Hermione was usually asked to attend these functions, as well. Often, she would give some sort of presentation. Since they were there regarding their work together anyway, Severus and Hermione attended the functions together. It lent Severus a greater air of credibility, and it allowed Hermione to evade drunken admirers and the paparazzi. Severus had gotten extremely good at “The Look.” When the intoxicated buffoons or paparazzi began closing in, Severus would hover nearby, drawing himself up to his full height and wearing the look he had normally reserved for Neville Longbottom in bygone Potions classes. Hermione’s tormentors would usually back off at that point. Watching over Hermione had become a habit over the years; it was only natural he should feel protective of her now.

_A long time ago I had a lady to love  
She made me think of things I never thought of  
Now she’s gone and I’m on my own  
A love song has come into my mind  
A love song it was there all the time_

The irony of it all was that she had no idea. Around her, he kept his guard up. He was still more civil than in years past, but only barely. He had learned long ago that to let someone inside his defenses was to be hurt. The stronger the affection, the more agonizing the pain. His mother’s death had torn him apart; Lily’s had nearly killed him. So he still kept everyone at arm’s length. Her, he kept even further. He kept her at a distance, but he couldn’t keep her out of his head.

She was on the far side of the room from him. Most of her hair was piled on top of her head with curling chestnut tendrils spilling down her back. Her dress was a striking color somewhere between cerulean and indigo and her heels had been charmed to match. Her body moved in time to the music, her steps and the sway of her hips timed to the beat.

She must have felt his eyes on her; her head swiveled and her eyes met his. They clouded momentarily as she recognized who the eyes belonged to, but the moment passed. A smile lit her face as she began to make her way over to his corner. Severus lifted the nearly-full tumbler to his lips and drained it. He had a feeling he was going to need it.


	2. Wishing and Waiting

Hermione was relaxed for the first time in months. The five-year anniversary celebrations had taken nearly a year to plan and the Department of Mysteries had been in the thick of it. The most spectacular events of the celebration had been the direct result of many contraptions that were under strict Ministry control.

She had accepted the job as an Untouchable straight out of Hogwarts. Her position as a war hero and the Brains of the Golden Trio (as the rags had so dubiously named her) had certainly eased the way, but her superiors had readily acknowledged her qualifications and merit in her own right within months. Interestingly, upon proving herself, she was immediately assigned to liaise with Professor Snape in regards to various potions that he was developing. Most of them were joint ventures with the St. Mungo’s research department for improved medical potions. A few of them were also offensive potions that could be of use to future generations in the case of the rise of a new dark wizard. Hermione shuddered when she thought of some of those potions, but she also knew she would have happily used them to bring down Voldemort and his Death Eaters had they existed during the war.

Her working relationship with Professor Snape had both changed considerably yet stayed the same in the last four years. On one hand, he was marginally more human. He no longer went out of his way to find reasons to berate her. He never once made cutting remarks about her looks or her heritage. There were surface differences, as well. He washed his hair regularly, occasionally wore a bit of color, and even looked as if his skin were occasionally exposed to sunlight. On the other hand, his remarks to her were still often acrid and unforgiving. He rarely spoke to her of anything not work-related. When he did, it was with the appearance of extreme discomfort. His highest praise of her in the last four years had been when she had stayed up for 48 hours straight to achieve a breakthrough in brewing an especially sensitive potion. She had waited in a state of near ecstasy for his arrival that morning. They had been working on this for months, and she had finally gotten it right! She was so proud. Snape had come in from a good night’s sleep, looked in the cauldron and said, “Acceptable,” as if they were back at Hogwarts and he was passing judgment on an elementary assignment. Hermione had nearly burst into tears on the spot. As it was, she had barely made it to the washroom before breaking down into sobs.

Looking back, she realized it had been mostly a product of exhaustion and hunger. Still, it had stung to be denied the praise she had worked so hard to earn. Why did his good opinion matter so much to her anyway? It wasn’t as if he had ever bestowed it upon her before. Why should she expect to receive it now?

She supposed it was because she had worked so hard alongside Harry and Minister Shacklebolt to clear Professor Snape’s name and reputation. They had had the full support of Kingsley, but as a new Minister of Magic, he hadn’t been able to exert as much influence over the Wizengamot as the office was normally capable of. Perhaps it was all for the best. Between the testimony of Dumbledore’s portrait and Snape’s own memories, even the bureaucratic Wizengamot had been forced to acquit Severus Snape of the murder of Albus Dumbledore without the taint of political manipulation. Minister Shacklebolt made the Ministry’s endorsement of the acquittal perfectly clear by awarding Snape the Order of Merlin, First Class. This time there was no Time-Turner to interfere with the award of such a distinction.

Hermione had been publicly on Snape’s side from the beginning. She had always known that there was more to him than people gave him credit for. She was glad everyone could see it now. But when she tried to treat him with the respect he deserved and as a fellow adult, he simply sneered and said, “Really, Miss Granger, do you suppose because Shacklebolt put on that dog-and-pony show that all is forgiven and forgotten? I hardly think so. Now, let’s discuss that anti-venin we will be working on today.”

And that had been that. The only thing that had changed over the years had been his address of her. His voice had positively dripped with disgust when he had first addressed her as “Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione had shuddered at his tone and replied stiffly, “Mrs. Weasley is Ron’s mother Molly. Please call me Hermione, or if you must be formal, Mrs. Granger-Weasley. If you have no respect for me, you can continue to call me Miss Granger.”

Severus had paused, and then inclined his head. From that moment forward, he was careful to always address her as Mrs. Granger-Weasley. Until the day the divorce had been finalized. Despite the fact that the split had been mutual and for the most part amicable, it had still broken her heart when the marriage had failed. She and Ron had spent many sleepless nights trying to fix what couldn’t be fixed and crying over what would never be. The afternoon she had received the papers, she had gotten stinking drunk at the Hog’s Head Bar then wandered into the workshop and fell asleep at her desk, the papers clutched in her hands and dried tears streaked down her face.

He had found her thus the next morning. She was awakened by the smell of strong coffee, a vice that both she and Severus shared. She raised her head to find a steaming mug at her elbow and Snape sitting across the room at his desk, making notes. At the sight of her movement, he looked up and held her gaze for just a moment. “Miss Granger,” he said quietly, “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a bath for you in the washroom. I can only imagine you must be sore after spending the night asleep at your desk. You’ll also find I’ve added a hangover remedy to your coffee.”

“Th-thank you,” she stammered as she passed him on the way to the washroom, coffee in hand.

Snape looked up at her with a strange expression. “It was nothing.” His voice was oddly quiet. The expression was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced with his trademark sneer. “Besides,” he continued, “you positively reek of alcohol and smoke. I won’t be able to concentrate until you get yourself cleaned up.” Then he had returned to his notes, leaving her to carry her coffee into the adjoining washroom.

She had emerged an hour later, physically better and emotionally calmer. Snape remained silent, not even discussing the work they were doing. Later that afternoon, as she was doing a storeroom inventory, she heard an explosion from the workroom. Her charmed Dicta-Quill and parchment clattered to the floor as she ran to investigate.

Snape was lying in a heap on the floor behind the worktable. He had thrown his arms across his face in an effort to protect himself. Hermione ran to him, terrified of what she would find. Rust-colored liquid covered every surface within ten feet of the cauldron, which had fallen to the floor at Snape’s feet. She pulled a set of gloves out of her pocket and pulled them on. She reached out to feel for a pulse, her hands shaking. It was strong beneath her fingers.

“I assure you, Miss Granger, nothing is hurt but my pride. I have never in my life managed to explode Dragonfire Balm.” Snape’s voice made her gasp in surprise. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. Dragonfire Balm was messy, but a simple Scourgify would be an effective and safe cleanup. She peeled off her gloves and muttered the spell.

Snape pulled himself upright, visibly shaken. She could see the look of disgust on his face. Soon it gave way to anger. He turned to her, opening his mouth to lash out, and promptly fell into her arms.

He was solid, but light. She could feel lean muscle and bone beneath his robes. The contact lasted for only an instant; he immediately straightened up again, holding on to the table. He looked at her with his customary sneer. “Miss Granger, I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your hands to yourself in the future.”

Hermione flushed with rage and disbelief. She spoke before she could stop herself. “What? I just kept you from breaking your bloody nose! But if the idea of having me touch you is so intolerable, next time I’ll go ahead and let you hit the ground. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave you alone so you don’t have to worry about me touching you again.” She turned and Apparated home on the spot.

The following day was like nothing had happened. They only spoke to each other when absolutely necessary, and that was how it had remained for the past year.

All of this ran through her head as she danced. She had embraced Ron and Luna enthusiastically—and publicly—when they had arrived. It still hurt a little to see him with someone else, but they made each other so happy that it was impossible not to be happy for them. She had danced with Harry and Neville, grinning as Ginny and Hannah took turns fending off young girls drooling over Harry, Neville, and Ron. They were polite, but firm and the hero-worshipers finally decided it would be enough to admire their heroes from afar. The current song ended, and she pulled out of Neville’s arms, giving him a peck on the cheek before returning him to Hannah. A sultry tune with an urgent beat began; Hermione decided this would be a good opportunity to get a drink.

That’s when she felt a pair of eyes watching her. The weight of their scrutiny sent chills up her spine. She turned around and studied the faces at the bar, searching for the source. Her heart fluttered as she found his face in the shadows. A surge of disappointment washed over her as her mind told her she had no reasonable expectation of deriving any enjoyment from his presence. It was obvious by now that he still thought her insufferable. She shook it off quickly, however, determined to at least make an effort at enjoyable interaction with him. She knew he despised parties, but he usually seemed less tortured around her than when left to the mercy of strangers, or worse, the rest of her classmates.

She smiled as she walked across the dance floor towards Snape. He had secluded himself, as usual, in the darkest corner of the bar. As she mounted the steps to the bar area, she noticed he was wearing her favorite set of dress robes. The cut was extremely flattering to his lean body, and the lining of the cuffs and collar were a gorgeous shade of deep violet, as were the button edges. Her heart began to beat faster.

Why did she let him affect her this way? She was nothing to him—nothing at all. Never once had he ever shown any interest in her as a person or any pleasure in her company. At best, he was entirely indifferent to her. At worst, he hated the very sight of her. Even after four years of working together, she still could not decide which it was. All she knew was that she craved the touch and affection of the last man in the world who would ever want to give them to her.

 


	3. (Mis)Understanding and Enlightenment

Severus watched Hermione walk towards him. Even when she wasn’t dancing, she was graceful. Her hips swayed in time to the music as she walked. Idly he wondered if she were that graceful in bed.

 _Severus, stop!_ he thought to himself. _She’s just 24 years old, young enough to be your daughter! Besides, she’d never look at you as anything other than her former professor, a former Death Eater, and the man who she has to work with every day whether she likes it or not. Give it up._ He frowned as he scolded himself mentally.

“Good evening, Severus. How are you holding up in this crowd?” Hermione asked as she came up to him, glancing at his empty Scotch glass.

“Miss Granger,” Severus replied, inclining his head. “I’ve been better, but at least I haven’t been accosted by the usual groupies wanting a piece of ‘The Unsung Hero’”

Hermione snorted with laughter. “Yes, they always make a lively addition to any gathering, don’t they? I believe the security detail has been very careful with who is gaining admittance to the party tonight, so I think you’ll be safe. God knows I’m enjoying the lack of paparazzi!”

“Yes, well, all the more reason why you certainly don’t need to put yourself in my presence. Why aren’t you on the dance floor enjoying yourself?” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Suddenly, Hermione looked nervous. She shifted from foot to foot and began twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Well,” she said, eyes downcast, “Iwaswonderingifyouwouldliketodancewithme?” The last bit came out so fast it took Severus a moment to decipher the meaning of her words. Hope welled up in his chest, nearly choking him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Weasley and Potter standing at the other end of the bar, laughing. So, this was some sort of joke they had put her up to, then. Cold fury settled like a mask over his face and in his heart.

“Really, Miss Granger, do you think I’m as gullible as that? Next time you try to embarrass your poor, pathetic former Potions Master, you may want to advise your partners in crime to be a bit less obvious when trying to view the outcome. Besides, I have no intention of dancing with anyone, least of all you,” he sneered.

Hermione had gone beet red, then white. For a moment she looked as if she would cry, or hit him, or both. When she spoke, her voice was shaking. “As you like. I thought maybe… well, never mind what I thought. I leave you to your solitude, then.” As she turned and walked away from him, he noticed a tear fall down her cheek.

 _Strange_ , he thought. He looked down at the other end of the bar, expecting Potter and Weasley to be following her or staring at him, but they had their backs turned to him as if they hadn’t seen anything. What was going on? He got up from his seat and made his way over to the young men.

“Potter. Weasley,” he said as he walked up to them. They looked up at him, startled.

“Professor Snape! I didn’t realize you were here tonight. How is your work for St. Mungo’s going?” Harry asked.

“Really, Potter, you ought to practice your lies a bit more. I’m astonished that the two of you have yet to follow Miss Granger to determine the outcome of your little prank. Or was it a dare?”

“Hermione? Dare? I don’t understand what you mean, sir. We saw her a bit ago, but we left her on the dance floor to come and get drinks for Ginny and Luna. She was up here too?” Ron asked.

“Did you, or did you not, dare her to ask me to dance with her? I admit, it’s a bit childish, but only the two of you could persuade her to do something so asinine.”

Ron and Harry both stared at him, but then a look of understanding crossed Harry’s face. “So _that’s_ what she’s been going on about for the last six months! Bloody hell, I should’ve known. It makes perfect sense.” By this time, Ron looked as if he understood, as well.

“Professor—Severus,” Harry said. Severus’ eyes narrowed as he turned to Harry, but the younger man didn’t flinch. “We had no idea she was going to ask you to dance. We certainly would never have dared her. If she asked you to dance with her, it was her own idea.”

“So you’re saying she was trying to make a fool of me of her own volition?” _Great_ , Severus thought.

“No. What we’re saying is that if she asked you to dance, it’s because she wanted to dance with you. You know Hermione doesn’t make fun of people,” Ron pointed out.

“Sir, she’s been upset for a while now. She hides it well, but not as well as she used to. Lately, she’s been talking to the girls, telling them how she envies all of us for being in relationships. About six months ago, I overheard her tell Ginny there’s someone she works with that she hasn’t had the courage to talk to. She thinks he hates her.” Harry looked Severus in the eye. “She thinks _you_ hate her.”

Severus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean—?”

“I haven’t seen her this unhappy since we signed the divorce papers, sir,” Ron said softly. “Whatever’s going on, she seems to care for you. I’m surprised we didn’t figure it out on our own.” He made a face. “I always said she wouldn’t be happy until she found someone ridiculously smart.” Then he looked Severus in the eye. “We’re not married anymore, but I still love her. Frankly, if she fancies you, I think she’s absolutely nutters. But it seems you’re who she wants, so I’ll not stand in her way. But know this: If you ever hurt her, I will make you wish you had a nice, quiet cell in Azkaban. Xeno’s been giving you some good press since the end of the war. I’m sure the press could turn bad, considering who is dating his daughter.”

“Are you threatening me, Mr. Weasley?”

“No. I’m protecting Hermione. Now, I suggest you find her. Knowing you, your treatment of her tonight hasn’t been that good. I’ll let it slide for tonight.” Ron’s eyes met Severus’, as if searching for something. Evidentially satisfied, he gave a brief nod, then turned and made his way back over to Luna, who had drifted to the edge of the dance floor and had been watching them.

“I’d imagine she’s in the ladies room. She’s always been good for that,” Harry grinned ruefully. “I’ll send Ginny and Luna in after her. They can handle anything short of a mountain troll. What you do when she comes out is up to you. I suggest you try apologizing.”

_And I love you best  
You’re not like the rest  
You’re there when I need you  
You’re there when I need  
I’m gonna need you_

Severus’ brain was in overdrive, so he simply nodded and watched Harry walk away. What was going on? Could it be possible that Hermione may actually have feelings for him? He retreated to his bar stool and sat with his head in his hands, mentally reviewing the last four years. Everything suddenly took on a new light. The looks, the tiny movements she would make when she thought he wasn’t looking. The look she had in her eyes that morning after the divorce when his façade had slipped and he had been kind to her despite himself. The look of terror she had on her face when she had found him after the explosion. He had been so distracted by her that he hadn’t been concentrating on what he was doing. He thought the terror had been a reaction to his anger at himself. Could it have been for his well-being instead? 

Severus bit back a curse. If she truly did have feelings for him, then he had just been abominably cruel to her. What had he done?


	4. I'd Rather Deal With a Troll

There was a knock on the door. Hermione wiped her eyes and blew her nose into a tissue. “Come in,” she called in a watery voice. Ginny entered, followed by Luna.

“Hermione, what’s wrong? Harry said he saw you run in here nearly 15 minutes ago,” Ginny said. She took one look at Hermione’s red and tear-stained face and pulled her into a hug. “What happened?”

“I—I—I don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione sniffed, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Professor Snape said something awful,” Luna said. It wasn’t a question.

“Professor Snape? Hermione, is that true? Why in the world would anything he has to say upset you? You’ve been working together forever now; surely you’re used to his attitude by now!” Ginny exclaimed, pulling her down onto the lounge in the center of the room.

“She’s in love with him,” Luna said in a far-off voice.

“Hermione in love with Snape! Not bloody—” Ginny’s protest was cut off as a very un-Hermione-like wail escaped the woman in her arms. Hermione’s head lay on her shoulder as she rocked her friend back and forth, trying to calm her down. Ginny’s worried eyes met Luna’s calm ones over Hermione’s head. “In love with Snape?!?” she mouthed. Luna simply nodded her head, as if she was confirming today’s date.

“Hermione, how long?” Ginny asked quietly in an effort to get her friend talking and pull her away from the edge of hysterics.

Hermione lifted her head and looked at her friends, wiping her face again. She didn’t want to talk about this. It was too humiliating. But before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out anyway. “Since the divorce. Remember I told you I went to the Hog’s Head Bar that night? Well, I got so drunk that I was afraid to Apparate home, so I wandered into the workshop and fell asleep at my desk. I was still there when he came in the next morning. He brewed some coffee, spiked it with a hangover remedy, drew me a bath—a bath of all things!—and woke me up. When I thanked him, he got this look on his face, like he really cared. It only lasted a second, but I swore I saw it. He actually cared that I was in pain and did something to try to make me feel better.” She sighed. “I must have been imagining things, I know. But that’s when it started. The thought that he may actually care about me, even as a friend, made me start looking at him differently. I’ve clearly let my emotions get the better of me. How could I possibly believe he’d ever view me as anything other than ‘an insufferable little know-it-all’?”

“What just happened out there?” Ginny asked, relieved that Hermione had at least stopped crying.

“I asked him to dance. I don’t know what possessed me. Probably those damn dress robes he’s wearing. Anyway, he told me that next time I wanted to embarrass him, be less obvious about it, and besides, I was the last person in the world he would dance with.”

“Ouch,” Ginny said.

“He’s hiding,” Luna said. Ginny and Hermione looked at her, and she tilted her head a bit, as if to shrug. “He’s hid all his life, and he’s hiding still. You almost found him, and he didn’t like that.” They waited for her to say something else, but she just looked at them.

Hermione squared her shoulders a bit, and then stood up. She performed a cleansing charm on herself and Ginny, and then said, “Well, he can keep hiding if he wants. I’m not going to stay in here for the rest of the night. Come on, girls, let’s go dance.”


	5. Actions Speak Louder Than Words

Severus Snape sat at the bar with his head in his hands and his empty Scotch glass before him. He had just taken the vial of Sober-Up potion he kept with him at these functions, so he was no longer intoxicated. His stomach was roiling with nausea, whether from regret or Scotch he knew not. He had been sitting there for the better part of an hour, forcing himself to face the truth. He was both elated and terrified at what he saw.

He loved Hermione Granger. He had loved her for some time now, truth be told. He couldn’t name a specific date or event that marked its origin, but he could say that the first time his heart had consciously stirred for her had been the morning after her divorce when he had found her asleep at the worktable. She had looked so vulnerable, so defeated, that it had been all he could do not to take her in his arms, smooth her hair back from her face, and tell her everything was going to be alright.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Her soul sang to his in a way that none—not even Lily’s—had ever done before. She knew him for who he was and still accepted him. She was intelligent, kind, and resourceful. She was brave, loyal, and honorable. And she was beautiful. She was everything he had ever dreamed of in a woman, back when he had been naïve enough to harbor such fantasies. He wanted her more than anything or anyone in his miserable life. Maybe, just maybe, she wanted him, too.

What if she did? How could he possibly expect anything good to come of it after how he had treated her? Not just tonight, but all her life. He had done his best to insult and intimidate her while she was his student. Once they had become co-workers, he had abandoned the hostility, but he had never treated her as a human being. If he approached her now, after rebuffing and humiliating her, what would she do?

Something deep inside Severus reared in protest. He was tired of living his life like a chess game, constantly trying to stay one step ahead of everyone. He was sick to death of trying to anticipate everyone’s moves. For once, he wanted to act now and think later, and damn the consequences.

 _What if she says no?_ that tiny voice in his head whispered.

 _So what if she does?_ he answered himself. _You can’t possibly be any more miserable than you are right now._

 _OK,_ the tiny voice shot back, _what if she says yes?_

Severus had no answer.

_So Lady, let me take a look at you now  
You’re there on the dance floor making me want you somehow  
Oh Lady, I think it’s only fair I should say to you  
Don’t be thinking that I don’t want you  
‘Cause maybe I do_

He lifted his head from his hands and looked around. He had been aware of his surroundings, but only on an instinctual level. He found he had to orient himself again. Warily, he looked around for Hermione and found her dancing with Harry. Her movements were relaxed and comfortable, but she stood closer to him than the upbeat tempo of the music required. He also noticed that her eyes never left Harry’s. She was seeking comfort and protection in his presence, using his friendship to shield her from what had transpired earlier.

Doubt still warred within him. It was obvious he had hurt her. Perhaps it would be better to leave it be. Perhaps she would be better off without him.

 _Perhaps she deserves to have a say in that decision,_ the tiny voice in his head chided.

 _Bugger off,_ he told it. However, he couldn’t seem to manage much conviction.

As Severus wrestled with his emotions, the upbeat tempo came to an end. The low hum of strings filled the air, and couples embraced on the dance floor. Hermione gracefully returned Harry to his wife, and then began to make her way to the other side of the floor.

Severus was moving before his brain had a chance to register a protest against his actions. His strides were long, and they served him well. He moved with the grace of a panther, and was across the dance floor in seconds. He reached down and caught Hermione by the wrist while her back was to him, spinning her into his arms. He held her nearly against him, one hand on her hip and the other entwined with her fingers. His eyes locked onto hers.

“Miss Granger,” he whispered, “may I have this dance?”

Her eyes flashed. “So, now suddenly you want to dance with me? Aren’t you worried I’ll disparage you later?”

Severus sighed and stepped back from her. “I apologize for mistaking your intent before. Unfortunately I am, by nature, a suspicious man. That is not easily overcome.”

The anger faded from her eyes somewhat, but there was still something guarded about her. “I thought I was the person you least wanted to dance with,” she challenged.

“I _should_ apologize for that statement and tell you just how very untruthful it was. I _do_ apologize. As for convincing you of the untruth of my words, however, actions will speak louder than any words can. May I please have this dance?”

Hermione stared at him as if she were in a daze, and then nodded slowly. Gently, as if afraid he would scare her, he drew her to him again. He took her right hand in his left and wrapped his right arm around her waist, resting his hand on the small of her back. Slowly, they began to move together.

As the music swelled around them, Hermione became more relaxed in his arms and finally laid her head on his shoulder. He turned his head and buried his face in her hair. She smelled of roses and sandalwood. Her dress was cut low in the back and heat radiated from the bare skin beneath his hand. Carefully, he began to trace his fingertips up her spine. He heard her gasp, and then felt her shiver. Dear God, he wanted her. Softly he whispered her name and tightened his arms around her, drawing her hips into his. Her body was pressed against his, finally revealing the truth of his desire. That action spoke louder than any words he could ever offer her.


	6. Revelations

Hermione’s head was spinning. In the space of ten minutes, everything she thought she knew about the man in front of her had suddenly been turned on its head. She had very nearly hexed him when he had grabbed her on the dance floor. Instead, she resorted to lashing out at him. Then his eyes had met hers and she had seen something there that had made her stop and listen to what he had to say.

Her request to dance had surprised him. She knew that. Was it really any wonder that he had jumped to the wrong conclusion?

_He should know you better than that._

_Yes, well, perhaps_ you _should’ve known_ him _well enough to anticipate his reaction to a request to dance out of the blue._

When Severus had asked her to dance a second time, she hadn’t been able to refuse. She had wanted it too badly to stick to any perceived moral high ground. Instead, she had let him take her in his arms. She had nearly lost it when she had felt his hand on the bare skin of her back. With no more than that simple touch, he had set her body on fire. Somehow, she had maintained her composure and concentrated on the music instead. Part of her brain was shrieking, _You’re in the arms of Severus Snape!_ but instead of fighting it, she let the feeling wash over her. Almost without thinking, she rested her head against his shoulder.

She felt the electricity surge between them at the contact. She felt him turn his head to bury his face in her hair and inhale her scent. Then the hand on her back began to move. A gasp tore itself from her throat as his fingertips brushed lightly up her spine. Her body began trembling with need as he traced a line from the base of her spine to her neck and back. She closed her eyes, fighting to maintain her composure. She was in the arms of Severus Snape, and _he was touching her!_

His hand was back to the small of her back now, and she heard him whisper, “Hermione,” in his velvet voice.

 _He just called me Hermione!_ she rejoiced, but the thought was totally obliterated as he tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her to him. Through the silk of her dress and the wool of his robes, she felt it. The physical proof of his desire was pressed firmly into her lower abdomen. Her first reaction was disbelief. Then her brain caught up to her body and began chanting _OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod! He wants me!_ The shock of this realization made her stop in the middle of the dance floor. She tried to pull away, to look at him, but he kept her pressed against him.

“You see, Miss—Hermione—I’ve come realize that you have been under the impression that I dislike you. As you can so clearly tell, nothing could be further from the truth. I care for you a great deal, and I want you, more than anyone else I have ever known.”

“Severus,” she whispered.

“Do you wish me to let you go?” he asked.

“No.”

“Would you perhaps care to continue this conversation somewhere less public?”

“Yes.”

“As do I. We should not be seen leaving together since we did not arrive together; otherwise we will likely end up on the front page of tomorrow’s Daily Prophet. When the dance is over, I will leave here and Apparate home. The wards are rather intricate and I do not wish to deal with them tonight. Therefore I suggest you Apparate to the workshop and Floo to Spinner’s End from there. Would that be acceptable to you?”

“You want me to come to your home?” Hermione asked, amazed that so private a man would make such a suggestion.

“I would like nothing more,” Severus answered.

The song came to an end, and Severus finally released her. His eyes were unfathomable as he looked at her. Then he turned and threaded his way through the crowd toward the door.

Ginny and Luna were at her side in an instant. “What happened?” Ginny asked. “That looked awfully intense.”

Hermione stood there, trembling. She took a few deep breaths, and then pulled her friends to an empty spot on the edge of the dance floor. “I… he…” She hardly knew what to say. “I need to leave.”

“Would you like us to come and take you to brunch tomorrow morning? We could go to that new place in Diagon Alley,” Ginny suggested.

“Not tomorrow,” Hermione grinned. “I don’t think I’ll be home yet.”

“I knew it! When I saw you two dancing, I knew there was something going on!” Ginny practically crowed.

“Yes, well, don’t let on to anyone else yet. I’m still not entirely sure what this something is yet.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be just lovely, whatever it is,” Luna said with a smile.

Hermione giggled and gave them both a hug. “Say goodnight to everyone for me, would you? I should be going now.” They nodded as she made her way to the exit. She stepped outside into the relative quiet of the summer night. Mercifully, there were no paparazzi loitering in the vicinity. She took a moment to gather her thoughts, then Apparated to the workshop.

Once there, she took a moment to freshen up in the washroom. She also went into the storeroom, found a flask of contraceptive potion and measured out a dose for herself. She didn’t know for sure where the night was going to lead, but she knew how desperately she wanted him. Heat pooled in her belly as she remembered the feel of him pressed to her body, his hands on the bare skin of her back. She walked over to the fireplace, took a handful of Floo Powder, and Flooed to Spinner’s End.


	7. Finding You

_Look around, come to me  
I have no answers but know where I want to be_

She stepped out of the immaculate fireplace into a den lined ceiling to floor with bookshelves. Under normal circumstances, she would have immediately begun to peruse the contents. Tonight, however, her attention was diverted by the man standing in the center of the room.

He had divested himself of his outer robes, leaving him clad in a waistcoat of the same shade as the lining of said robes, black trousers, and crisp white shirtsleeves. Her breath caught in her throat at how heart-stoppingly handsome he was as he stood before her. _Whoever his tailor is, he certainly has style!_ Hermione thought.

All of this took only seconds to register, and then there was no more room for thought at all. Severus crossed the distance between them in two long strides and caught her in a fierce embrace. Then his mouth was on hers and the world was exploding around her.

She could never say how long that first kiss lasted. She only knew that when she could breathe again, her lips were swollen and her knees were trembling and weak. She looked up and met his dark eyes in his flushed face. Then, as if she weighed no more than a broomstick, he lifted her up and carried her to his bedroom.

He laid her down on a large four-poster bed covered in blue silk sheets. She dimly registered the presence of candles flickering softly about the room. He sat beside her and leaned down to kiss her again, this time slowly and tenderly. She sat up and reached towards him, trying to undo the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Hermione, wait,” he said gently. She drew back from him, a look of uncertainty crossing her face. He reached up and cupped her cheek. “We’ve caused each other a great deal of needless pain over the last few years. I don’t wish for that to continue. I don’t know exactly what is going to happen, but I need you to know this can’t be just a one-night stand for me. I need you.”

“Kiss me. God, Severus, touch me. Take me. I’ve been yours for longer than you know. This won’t be a one-night stand. I’m never letting you go.”

Severus grabbed her by the shoulders and said, “That works both ways.” Then he pulled her to him for a searing kiss, nibbling her lips and caressing her tongue with his own. Her hands were on his arms and it was all she could do to hold on as he moved from her mouth and began to trace a line of kisses along her jaw and down the tendons in her neck to her bare shoulder. She slumped forward and began to undo his buttons with shaking hands. His mouth drifted across her collarbones and throat, all with torturous languor. She had undone all the buttons on his waistcoat and his shirt and had unclipped the braces from his trousers by the time his lips reclaimed hers.

His fingers began toying with the spaghetti straps of her dress. They crisscrossed her back, and he tentatively slipped them down her arms. He kept the fabric in his fingers as he brought his hands back to her shoulders. Hermione hissed with pleasure. He looked up at her, searching for signs of disapproval or reproach and found none. His hands continued downward and cupped her breasts, the silk still separating their flesh. His thumbs circled over her nipples, sending shocks through her body. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She heard a low groan come from his throat, then felt his lips brush the hollow between her collarbones, kissing up the line of her neck. He released the material, and the silk fell to her waist, leaving her exposed to him for the first time. She lifted her head and looked at him.

Severus sat in front of her, staring at her breasts. He wasn’t ogling or gawking, just looking as if his eyes might never move again. His lips were slightly parted as if he might be on the verge of saying something, but he remained silent. Hermione began to feel a blush creep from her hairline down her body. Her skin felt as if it was on fire, and finally, Severus lifted his bottomless eyes to hers. They were shining with lust, need, and… vulnerability? Slowly, reverently, he lifted his hand to her face and traced the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, encouraging him to do more. “Turn around,” he whispered.

Puzzled, she did as she was asked. His fingers traced feather light touches up her spine as they had while they were dancing, making her shiver again. Then he lifted his fingers to the knot of hair on her head and begin finding the pins and pulling them out, tossing them onto the nightstand beside the bed. He made quick work of them, and began running his fingers through the massive amounts of hair that now hung down her back.

“I’ve always wondered if you truly had as much hair as it seemed, or if you were using some sort of charm. My God, woman, I’m amazed you’ve never chopped it all off!” Severus exclaimed softly, still smoothing strands of hair between his fingers, working his way towards her scalp.

“It has its benefits,” Hermione answered. “Oh God, yes! Keep doing that. I _love_ having my hair played with. Oooh…” she moaned as Severus began alternately massaging her scalp then brushing the hair back from her face. She let him continue in this manner until she could barely stand it anymore. Every nerve in her body was hypersensitive. Anytime their skin made contact, her desire flared, nearly blinding her. Her breathing was becoming uneven, and the only thing she could think was that she wanted more. She wanted him.

She turned around to face him again. His shirt and waistcoat hung open, exposing smooth, pale flesh crisscrossed with faded scars. She moved her hands to his shoulders and pushed the material down his arms and off. He sat unmoving, with his hands in his lap, as if ashamed of his body. The scars were disconcerting, true, but she had known they would be there. Underneath were lean muscle and a flat stomach. She reached up and began to trace the scars with her fingers, pausing to circle first one nipple, then the other. She saw his hands unclench and his body relax. Emboldened, she followed the path of her fingers with her lips and tongue.

It was Severus’ turn to throw his head back. He couldn’t believe what was happening. Hermione was here, in his bedroom. They were both half naked and My God, the things she was doing to him! He gasped and closed his eyes as her tongue circled his nipple, then bit down gently. The jolt went straight to his cock. He leaned back slightly, resting his weight on his hands, as she continued to kiss him lower, moving from his chest to his abdomen and down to his navel. Then her hands were on his trousers, undoing the buttons. He lifted his hips and his erection sprung free as she slid the material down his legs.

Hermione stared for a moment at the man lounging naked in front of her. She had dreamed of this moment for nearly a year now. She was wet, and the ache between her legs was becoming intolerable, but she wanted to take advantage of the moment while he had his guard down. She knew them both well enough to know he would soon be taking charge, but she wanted to take the chance to show him just how much she desired him.

Severus’ eyes flew open as he felt Hermione straddle him. Her dress was bunched up around her waist, and she was totally naked underneath. She maneuvered so that his cock was pressed against his belly and her pussy was against it. _Holy God, she’s so wet!_ Then she leaned forward and pushed him back so that he was lying on the bed. She kissed him, starting as his throat and working her way lower. Her mouth found his cock and took him in.

Hermione slowly began to move her mouth from the base of the shaft to the tip, taking him in again and again. His groans started quietly, then got louder and louder, and his hips began to buck. Her hair fell in her face, caressing his stomach and thighs. She was lost in the moment. He began to whisper her name over and over again. Then he begged, “Stop. Please stop. I’m going to come.” She didn’t stop, she couldn’t. She was powerful, she was desired, and she wanted to make him come. She reached down to the skin behind his balls and ran a fingernail over it. His hips bucked violently, and he erupted into her mouth, screaming her name.

He lay there for a moment, trembling, as Hermione crawled back up his body and kissed him. He tasted himself, salty and bitter, and didn’t care. He devoured her mouth and pulled him back on top of him. He sat up and held her to him. Her pussy was against his softened cock, and she ground against it, not taking him in, but riding him. He gripped her hips and pulled his lips away from hers. “What do you want?” he growled.

“You,” she panted.

“What do you want me to do to you?” His voice was a whisper now.

“I want you inside of me,” she pleaded.

“Do you want my tongue or my cock?”

“Both.”

“I can manage that.” With a single pivot, she was on her back underneath him. His lips and hands were everywhere: her mouth, her jaw, her neck, her throat, her breasts, her stomach, her arse. His mouth was sucking roughly on a nipple when he reached underneath her, lifted her hips, and yanked the dress down her legs, tossing it across the room. For a moment, he rose above her, letting his eyes graze over her body, settling on the nest of neatly trimmed curls between her legs. Then he pushed her knees apart and lowered his head between them.

First she felt a breath of warm air. Then his tongue just barely touched her as it licked its way up her folds. He licked her again and again, sometimes alternating sides, going just a little deeper each time. His nose found her clit just as his tongue slipped past the barrel of muscle at her entrance. Then he was fucking her with his tongue, thrusting in as deep as he could go. She began to thrash and thrust her hips into his face, trying to take him deeper. His hands came up and held her down. She wailed as the onslaught continued. He could feel her inner walls start to shiver. He moved his mouth to her clit and thrust two long fingers inside her, fucking her hard and fast. He curled his fingers against her front wall, and she came, keening his name and pulsating hard around him. He continued to curl his fingers into her until she was nearly sobbing with the strength of her orgasm.

She lay there looking at him through half-closed eyes, waiting for the universe to stop spinning. She watched him lift his hand to his lips and take his fingers into his mouth. He looked at her as he licked the taste of her from his skin. He had gotten hard again while he had ravaged her with his mouth and tongue. Seeing her lay in his bed, flushed and sweating from the orgasm he had brought her to, with the taste of her still sweet in his mouth, nearly made him come again. But no, he had spent far too long wanting to be inside of her; he was going to consume her as she had unknowingly consumed him.

Severus slid up her body until he was lying on top of her, his cock poised at her entrance. He leaned down and kissed her, letting his hair fall around them. “Do you want this?” he asked gently, tilting his hips forward a fraction of an inch.

“Oh, God, yes,” Hermione breathed as he pulled back.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, tilting forward again.

“Yes! Please yes!” Pulling back again.

“Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?” He pressed in a little further, maybe half an inch now.

“Yes! Please, Severus, please, fuck me!” She was nearly frantic with need.

“As my lady wishes,” he said, and drove himself home. She was hot and tight and slick. Her hips rose to meet his, helping him drive deep into her. He rode her hard and fast, encouraged by her cries of pleasure. She was going to push him over the edge, and he didn’t want to go there just yet. With incredible effort, he slowed down, and the tightening in his balls loosened. His strokes became long and slow; he was enjoying feeling every inch of her.

Hermione grabbed his arse and pulled him deeper, trying to get him to increase his tempo again. Instead, he stopped. He looked at her, and a very Slytherin-like grin crossed his face. He reached behind him, grabbed her hands and lifted them above her. He pinned her wrists to the bed on either side of her head and began to move again, even slower than before.

Hermione moaned and writhed, begging him to move faster. She arched up into him, and he bent his head to suck first one nipple, then the other. She moaned again, but this time lower. Her body arched further up into his, and she began to match his pace, squeezing his cock with her muscles as he was pulling out. The slow pace he was setting was making her dizzy with anticipation. She could feel the orgasm building, coming up on her like a tidal wave from far out to sea. It was an enormous feeling; she knew it was going to devour her.

Severus was fighting to hold on. He could feel her beginning to tremble beneath him. Her eyes lost their focus, and she whispered, “Severus.” He released her hands and took her into his arms, pumping into her as hard and fast as he could. The tidal wave broke over them both. Hermione came first, her whole body convulsing and nothing but the sound of her rushing blood in her ears. Severus followed her, pulled over the edge by the feel of her coming around him. Names of gods and incoherent phrases were screamed into the night. Those went unnoticed, however. In the end there were only tears of joy and the whispered names of two people finally finding each other.

 _Don’t be thinking that I don’t want you  
Lady I do_

~fin~


End file.
